


Reprieve

by gildedfrost



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Bottom Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Car Sex, Hook-Up, M/M, Oral Sex, Phalloplasty, Praise Kink, Premature Ejaculation, Strangers to Lovers, Trans Jaskier | Dandelion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 05:40:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29077236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gildedfrost/pseuds/gildedfrost
Summary: Geralt's working on his fifth drink when another man joins him at the bar, taking the seat next to him and leaning forward a little too far. The man is far bolder than he should be and Geralt doesn’t miss the way he eyes the sword on his back. Few enough people carry such weapons nowadays; it’s practically a beacon. Geralt almost tells the stranger to fuck off, but then the man glances conspicuously at Geralt’s crotch, back up to his face, and flashes a winning grin. “I’ve always wanted to see how a Witcher wields his sword.”
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 8
Kudos: 171





	Reprieve

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Unwind](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23778844) by [gildedfrost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gildedfrost/pseuds/gildedfrost). 



> A quick exercise in writing these two characters through converting another fic of mine into a Witcher fic.
> 
> Anyway, this is my 69th fic, enjoy.

Geralt doesn’t go to the bar to be social. He’s there because life and work are shit and it’s the only goddamn place he can get an ounce of peace. Drinking’s a shitty habit, one that keeps pulling him back in every few years, but there’s not much good in his life outside of his horse, payday, and the satisfaction of a job well done. Not that the drinking itself is satisfying, though, not when it costs a hell of a lot to get anything more than a buzz. But it’s familiar, even as he wishes the game were playing louder and the bard were not playing at all.

He’s working on his fourth drink when he gets that wish, some announcer on the TV shouting about something or other the Cintran Lions did, and has moved onto his fifth when another man joins him at the bar, taking the seat next to him and leaning forward a little too far. The man is far bolder than he should be and Geralt doesn’t miss the way he eyes the sword on his back. Few enough people carry such weapons nowadays; it’s practically a beacon. Geralt almost tells the stranger to fuck off, but then the man glances conspicuously at Geralt’s crotch, back up to his face, and flashes a winning grin. “I’ve always wanted to see how a Witcher wields his sword.”

Geralt wouldn’t call himself easy. It’s been months, he tells himself. A long hunt and even longer dry spell. It’s certainly not the cheesy line that does him in, nor the smile, nor the handsome tuft of hair swept across the stranger’s forehead. Whatever it is, he takes one last swig of his drink, pays his tab, and gestures to the other guy to lead the way.

The next few minutes pass in a blur. The two of them end up in the parking lot of an office building that’s empty for the evening, the other man’s car parked in a dark corner. His hands roam over Geralt’s chest in the backseat, reaching beneath his shirt to explore while he kisses and sucks as much skin as he can reach on Geralt’s neck, both their cocks straining against their jeans.

Geralt grips the man’s ass, delighting in the feel of the soft flesh beneath his hands. He pulls down, grinding the other man against him, finally pulling a breathy moan out from him. “What’s your name?” Geralt asks. His voice is rough already.

“Jaskier.” His mouth latches onto Geralt’s collarbone.

When Jaskier grinds down again, Geralt’s hips jerk upwards. His touch is electric, lighting up all the nerves in Geralt’s body, and he feels simultaneously like he’s fooling around back in college and like he’s floating out of his body. “Oh, fuck,” he says, “do that again.”

Jaskier complies, slowly grinding his length against Geralt’s. “What should I call you?” he asks, voice low and silky.

“Geralt. Call me Geralt.” He can feel the precum leaking and smearing inside his boxers. Worry spikes inside him, breaking through the exhilaration. Fuck, it’s been too long. “I may not last long.”

“I know I’m irresistibly attractive, but I didn’t pick you out just for things to be over before they started.” Jaskier’s hands start to unbutton Geralt’s shirt, but his hips don’t pause. Geralt can tell he’s not the only one worked up.

Geralt grunts, a half thought-out response coming to mind moments before his mind blanks. He thrusts upwards, rubbing against Jaskier as his cock twitches and comes, his orgasm washing over him without a chance to hold back. He gasps, feeling the spurts of cum in waves, and he knows his boxers and cock are going to be covered in it.

Part of him is embarrassed, but another, deeper part of him stubbornly enjoys this intimacy and the pleasure. It’s been way too long.

“Did you just…?” Jaskier sits up and reaches downward, making quick work of Geralt’s belt, button, and zipper. He dips a finger into Geralt’s boxers, then whistles. “You did warn me.”

“Don’t pat yourself on the back,” Geralt says, taking a moment to catch his breath.

“For you creaming your pants like a teenager? I’ll pat myself on the back all I like.” Jaskier runs a finger down the side of Geralt’s cock and Geralt shivers. “Don’t tell me that famous stamina of yours has run dry,” he says with a tone that sounds like he doesn’t expect that to be the case. A lock of hair escapes his increasingly mussed hairstyle, making him look perfectly imperfect; the soft backlight from the streetlamps illuminates his disheveled form.

Geralt cups Jaskier’s crotch, feeling his hot length inside his pants. “Far from it. I just need a minute to recover.” He pauses, considering, then says, “My mouth, on the other hand…”

In the dim light from the streetlamps Geralt can see Jaskier’s mouth form an ‘o’. “I was kind of hoping I could fuck you.”

“Huh.” It’s been a while, but Geralt can’t say the thought doesn’t get him a bit hot under the collar, even as boneless as he feels now. “Lucky for you, I’ve got an ass.”

“With a hole in it, one assumes, like everyone else.” Jaskier says, his hands still slowly touching along Geralt’s cock. It’s nice, almost soothing. Certainly intimate. Two of Jaskier’s wandering fingers dip into his cum, then he brings them up to his face, sucking the cum off them. It looks like he’s uncertain about something, but then he nods, popping his fingers out of his mouth. “On your knees,” he orders, then stretches across to the glove compartment. Geralt catches sight of the bulge in his pants and his cock gives a half-hearted twitch at the thought of getting that inside of him.

By the time Jaskier’s got the lube, Geralt’s on his hands and knees, jeans and boxers pulled down to his ankles. He looks over his shoulder to see Jaskier rolling on a condom, and he almost regrets not pushing to give the guy a blowjob, because that cock looks delicious. It’s not as big as his, but it’ll be a decent stretch, and Geralt’s thanking the toys he brings on the road for making sure this isn’t the first time this year he’s taking something up his ass.

“Like what you see?” Jaskier asks. He slicks his fingers with lube before inserting one into Geralt, and Geralt lowers his head against his arms with a groan. “Because I certainly do.”

Geralt groans. “I don’t know what possessed you to flirt with me out of everyone in the bar, but you’ve picked the wrong guy to be chatty with.”

“You look like you could pin me down. Normally that’s terrifying, but being able to take a guy like you apart? The thought titillates me.” A second finger joins the first, going in easily. The stretch is a comfortable one. “You’re being so good for me, Geralt.”

It’s been a long while since anyone’s ever praised Geralt in bed. (Or the back of a car, at that.) He spreads his legs wider, mindful of the limited space, and breathes deeply. The sensation is less intense and easing off the overstimulation, and he can feel arousal building low in his gut again.

“You ready to take me?” Jaskier asks, still scissoring Geralt open while the other hand pulls one of his cheeks. “I won’t even complain about the hair.”

Geralt sighs. “Fuck me, Jaskier.”

He doesn’t need to ask twice. Jaskier continues to finger him for another half minute, then withdraws his fingers. Geralt can hear the pop of the lube cap and the sound of Jaskier slicking himself up, then he feels the head at his entrance. He relaxes as Jaskier pushes in, slowly yet firmly, and he can feel the stretch with only a slight sting.

When Jaskier bottoms out, Geralt feels so full.

“Oh my god,” Jaskier breathes. “Shit. I won’t last long, either.”

Geralt squeezes and Jaskier lets out a choked moan. “You can still show me a good time.”

Jaskier huffs a laugh. “Sure. Are you…?” He touches Geralt’s cock again, but Geralt shakes his head.

“Don’t worry about that. Let me feel your cock.” Slowly, Jaskier pulls back, thrusting back in just as slowly. Geralt thinks both their legs are shaking, from adrenaline or the awkward position, but he also knows Jaskier’s holding back. “Harder, Jaskier. Show me what you’ve got.”

He can feel Jaskier’s nod more than he can see it. His slow thrusts become faster, and once they reach a comfortable pace Jaskier gives a few strong, deep thrusts that take Geralt’s breath away. ”Fuck,” Jaskier breathes. They’re both sweating and moaning. The feeling of Jaskier’s hot cock inside him, hitting all his good spots and dragging against his tender walls, almost has Geralt seeing stars. “You’re incredible.”

Geralt doesn’t have any more words. His eyes are half-open as Jaskier pounds into him, and he drifts along for the ride, taking the sensations as they’re given to him in a rare reprieve from the stresses of his life.

“Oh, Geralt,” Jaskier says. He thrusts two, three more times, slow and hard, letting out a low groan as he comes, balls deep in Geralt’s ass.

When Jaskier finally withdraws, Geralt lies down on his side, giving his knees some relief. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees as Jaskier tosses away the condom, then tucks his cock back into his pants and adjusts himself.

“So,” Geralt says, in a daze. “You come here often?”

Jaskier laughs, leaning back against the seat and looking like Geralt feels. “I work here. I’m the bard, remember?” He grins. “You?”

“The bard? You’re the fucking bard?” Geralt runs a hand down his face. “Of course you are.”

“It’s always nice to meet a fan.” Jaskier rests a hand on Geralt’s leg. “A fucking fan, at that.”

Geralt pushes himself into a sitting position. “A fan. Yes,” he says dryly. His cock is at half-mast inside his damp pants. It’s going to be a pain getting to his apartment without his neighbors noticing, especially given how nosy they can be,

“Well, I do believe I’ve overstayed my lunch break. Hopefully nobody’s gone and vandalized my lute. I’m never sure how much to trust the bar owner.” Jaskier grabs his phone from his jeans, then hands it to Geralt. “Give me your number. Unless you don’t want to do this again, which is fine, but I would be very interested in a round two when we both have more time and, er, self-control.”

“Sure. Why the hell not?” Geralt grimaces and inputs his number. He should probably charge his phone, now that he thinks of it. He’s gotten so used to traveling without that he lets it die for days on end. “I mean that in a good way. The sex was kind of terrible, honestly, but it’ll go better when we’re not trying to hump like desperate rabbits.”

“That’s all on you, of course,” Jaskier insists. He pats Geralt on the shoulder. “I’ll text you. Now, please, leave my car. I can’t go getting cum stains on the upholstery.”

Geralt rolls his eyes, but grabs a tissue and sets to cleaning up.

* * *

Jaskier daydreams about Geralt for the entire following week.

He can’t help when he has a quiet minute at his day job—working at a recording studio—and his mind drifts from the files in front of him to think about the encounter in the car. He wants to bend Geralt over every surface he can think of, fucking into him rough and fast, and he wants to make love to him in a soft bed fit for a king. He wants to wake up with that man in his arms in the familiar sheets of his own bed, cuddling together as the morning sunlight sifts through a crack in the curtains. And he definitely wants Geralt’s cock in his mouth and his ass, filling him up until he’s begging for more.

Geralt doesn’t seem much for cuddling, but everyone has their exceptions. The fantasy isn’t completely ludicrous.

Sometimes his mind imagines other people—random mystery men or celebrities that tick his boxes—but they keep drifting back to Geralt. It’s been a couple of years since he slept with anyone and he got lucky finding Geralt so quickly. As far as he’s concerned, his first time having sex with his new penis was a wild success, and now he’s burning to have someone’s mouth on him. Preferably Geralt’s.

His cock isn’t exactly new, but the implant is, and a couple of years isn’t long in the grand scheme of things. He’s been looking forward to this since all his nerves got properly linked up and sensation returned. That Geralt didn’t ask him any odd questions really puffed up his confidence, and he’s felt confident and whole in a completely new way since that night. Every time he thinks about sinking into that tight heat, he bites his lip. The sensation was better than he imagined it to be and now he wants to experience it again and again. He’ll get the chance, he’s sure—he’s attractive and he knows it, and he works hard to keep a steady workout regime and a somewhat okay diet.

Right now, though, Geralt’s the only one he wants to impress. It’s a very sappy way to think about hooking up with a stranger, but he lets himself indulge in his contentment.

Those thoughts have been the only good part of his week, anyway. Between his car breaking down, overtime at work for a time-sensitive project, and bad memories resurfacing in his mind, he’s had a shitty time. Overthinking and staying in have pushed his mind into negative loops, causing nightmares and an inability to focus. He hasn’t fallen down the hole of drinking or other negative coping methods yet, but when he gets thrown out of the bar for picking a fight, he knows he realizes that he sorely needs a distraction.

When he’s lying alone on his couch watching old reruns on a Friday night, he decides he needs to get out. He wants to be held, to feel like he’s important to someone and they won’t let him go. The intimacy and tenderness would go a long way right now.

And he’d really like to get his first blowjob. Hell, his first handjob, for that matter. As satisfying as it is to touch himself, he knows it can be even better with a good lover.

He calls Geralt before he can lose his courage. In the intervening seconds, his mind runs through all the ways things could go wrong, what if Geralt hates him, is Geralt going to judge him for any reason...

Geralt picks up on the second ring. “Hey.”

“Geralt! My dear friend. Are you doing anything tonight?” Jaskier drums his fingers along the surface of the table, eyes glancing over to the fish tank and its lone betta swimming about. There’s too much restless energy in his body.

“Not really, but I can pencil in a plan to come by and do you.”

“Okay, that was a really bad line. I’m hanging up.”

“Wait, shit, I—”

Jaskier laughs, and he can’t keep a dorky grin from his face. “I’m joking, Geralt. I mean, it is a bad line, but you got me. I’d like to see you again, and I’d really like to see the rest of your body in proper lighting.”

“So we’ve evolved from parking lots and alleyways, have we?”

Jaskier can’t help the way his mouth goes dry at the thought of getting fucked in an alleyway. He clears his throat, glancing at his fish as if it could possibly know what he’s getting up to right now. “Let’s get a room. I’ll text you the address; it’s not far from the bar where we met.”

“Sure thing. Are you in a rush tonight, or…?”

“I don’t have any obligations this time. Do you?”

“Nah,” Geralt says. “Not this weekend. I’ll meet you there.”

“Great. See you soon.” Jaskier texts him the address of the place he’s planning on going—somewhere decent, but not too expensive—then makes to pack an overnight bag.

* * *

Jaskier meets Geralt in the lobby and greets him with a grand smile. “I got us a room,” he says, showing the two key cards and handing one to Geralt. They’re both dressed decently today, Jaskier in a loose blouse and Geralt in plaid. As he looks closer, he realizes Geralt’s trimmed his beard—and he smells nice, too. Jaskier whistles. “You clean up nice.”

Geralt looks himself up and down. “So do you?” he says, then quickly continues with, “Lead the way.” He gestus vaguely towards the elevator. When Jaskier turns, he catches Geralt glancing at his backside, and he stands a little straighter as he walks, pleased at the attention.

The room is cozy and clean. The window has a good view of the city, which is a nice surprise, though they won’t be looking outside very much. Maybe in the morning. For now, he’s got someone else to appreciate.

“You, uh, look good,” Geralt says after Jaskier sets his bag beside the bed.

He turns to face Geralt, clearly looking him up and down. Geralt’s definitely bigger than him. That really does something for him, turning some of his nervous energy into arousal, and he licks his lips. He didn’t notice how bright those yellow eyes were before, and he thinks, in another situation, he would genuinely be pleased to meet Geralt. Barring the typical life-or-death situations where one tends to encounter Witchers, of course.

“So,” Geralt says, stepping closer. He rests his hands on Jaskier’s hips and tilts his head. “How about we take a few layers off?” Straight to business, just as Jaskier had hoped.

Jaskier closes the distance between them, kissing Geralt squarely on the lips. It earns him an _oomph,_ and he almost pulls back, but Geralt returns the kiss with tongue. Jaskier melts into it, leaning against Geralt and wrapping his arms around his shoulders. This is nice, being held and kissed. The moment is sensual more than anything else. It’s a feeling he wants to bottle up and take home with him.

He grins into the kiss when he notices Geralt’s arousal, and he promptly squeezes Geralt’s ass. “You want to give me a show?”

Geralt raises an eyebrow. “You want a show?”

“I mean.” Jaskier steps back, taking a long, slow look up and down. He wants to get his hands and mouth all over that. “Yes.”

Geralt shrugs and begins to unbutton his shirt. The first two buttons go quickly, letting his chest hair peek out at the top, and Jaskier’s tempted to have him slow down because he can see those pert nipples poking at the fabric. “I’m beginning to wonder if you have a type.”

“There’s more than one type of man that I like,” Jaskier says, “but you could have easily stepped out of my dreams.” He picks at the sleeve of his blouse, wanting to take it off but not wanting to take his eyes off of Geralt.

It’s almost a shame when Geralt’s shirt is undone enough that he can no longer see the nipples through the fabric, but he does get a good look at the scars crossing his body. There’s everything from bite marks to bullet wounds, with plenty of gashes from decades of fighting. The sight makes Jaskier’s heart twinge for a moment at the pain Geralt’s gone through even as it stirs his lust.

The scars suit him.

“You alright there?” Geralt asks, and Jaskier realizes he’s staring.

He doesn’t resist the urge to touch, running a hand down the center of Geralt’s chest. His hand drifts and he thumbs over one of Geralt’s nipples. Then Geralt’s hands are on his own chest, feeling the shape of him through his shirt, and Jaskier’s patience is gone. Jaskier reaches for the hem of his blouse and pulls it up over his head, tossing it aside. He puts Geralt’s hands to his own chest again. “Touch me.”

There’s a moment of discomfort where the fear of rejection spikes as Geralt glances at Jaskier’s left arm and the large, neat scar that dominates his forearm. It dissipates quickly as Geralt turns his attention to the rest of Jaskier, hands roaming down his chest and across his abs, flicking his nipples along the way.

When Geralt’s hands dip into the hem of Jaskier’s pants, he clears his throat. “I believe you were going to strip for me,” Jaskier says, tapping a finger against Geralt’s belt buckle. “I’ve been waiting to see your cock again.”

“Then see it you shall,” Geralt says. Jaskier parts his mouth as anticipation runs through him and he gives Geralt just enough space to continue disrobing. The older man drops his shirt to the ground, revealing more scars scattered across his skin and a black tattoo on his shoulder. He unbuckles his belt and Jaskier swallows, watching with rapt attention. Geralt tosses the belt aside and ever so slowly unbuttons and unzips his pants to reveal the bulge in his boxers.

It’s not like Jaskier’s forgotten what Geralt’s cock looks like, but he didn’t quite take note of the size previously. He raises a hand to his mouth and shifts his weight, then blurts out, “Can I suck it?”

“I figured that’s what we were here for.” Geralt’s face turns pink even as he steps out of his shoes, followed shortly by his pants and socks. “Go right ahead. I promise I won’t go off so fast this time.”

Jaskier laughs. “That’s not a dealbreaker.” He unloops his own belt and kicks off his shoes and socks. “But that reminds me: I don’t really have a refractory period. So, you know.” He tosses his pants aside, leaving just his boxers when he kneels in front of Geralt.

He hooks a thumb into the band of Geralt’s underwear and pulls it down, giving Geralt just enough time to step out of them before he takes Geralt into his mouth. He moves slowly, trying not to scrape his teeth across it, and he looks up to see Geralt watching him with his mouth open.

Only half of Geralt’s cock fits in his mouth, which is frustrating, but Geralt’s quiet moans are more than enough reward. He holds the rest of it with his left hand, stroking as he sucks, relishing the weight of it in his hand and on his tongue. It twitches when he pushes his limits to take more of it, and Geralt whispers a _‘fuck’,_ which is a compliment if Jaskier’s ever heard one.

Jaskier reaches down with his free hand to grope himself, feeling some relief at the pressure building in his loins. He slips his hand into his boxers to pump his cock to erection, then fondles himself one last time before deciding to squeeze Geralt’s ass instead.

“Oh, fuck.” Geralt laces his fingers in Jaskier’s hair, mussing up the careful styling he did earlier this evening. His hips jerk forward in a couple of thrusts that he cuts short, and then he’s pushing Jaskier away, breathing heavily and looking winded. “Shit.”

“I take it you like my mouth.” Jaskier stands and pulls Geralt into a kiss, taking a couple seconds to enjoy the moment before divesting himself of his boxers.

Geralt kisses him again, feeling along his sides, and he walks Jaskier backwards until they reach the bed. Jaskier sits and then reclines against the pillows, pulling one leg close and letting the other lay flat against the bed, letting Geralt’s eyes roam over him. “Gorgeous,” Geralt murmurs, the praise slipping out effortlessly. “Your mouth is good, but the whole picture you make is downright incredible.”

Jaskier preens at the attention. Geralt climbs atop the bed, and then Jaskier watches with lidded eyes as Geralt fists his erection, filled with anticipation.

Then Geralt lowers his mouth and swallows all of Jaskier’s cock in one go.

“Geralt!” Jaskier thrusts up into that soft, wet heat, caught by surprise. His eyes roll back and he moans, latching onto Geralt’s hair as that mouth sucks and licks, the velvety softness feeling so good all over him. He’s always loved this before, when guys would suck on his t-cock, but now it’s like that’s amplified, all five and a half inches of his cock enveloped in Geralt’s welcoming mouth. “Oh god. Keep going, Geralt,” he says, loosening his grip and hoping he hasn’t hurt Geralt at all. He can hardly think past the pleasure.

Geralt pops off his cock, a string of saliva linking his lips to Jaskier’s cock, and Jaskier wishes he could take a snapshot and save this image forever, because he is absolutely going to dream about this for the next week. Month. Hell, decade.

“Pass me the lube,” Geralt says, and it takes Jaskier a painful moment to get those words to make sense in his head. He scrambles over to the side of the bed and tosses over a bottle of lube, then leans right back on the bed and spreads his legs, fairly certain of what Geralt’s after.

He’s right. “Mind if I finger you?” Geralt asks, and Jaskier’s nodding before he’s done.

“Just don’t stop sucking my dick,” Jaskier says. He gasps when Geralt takes him in his mouth again, one finger prodding at his entrance. “Go on,” he breathes. “Finger me open, Geralt.”

Geralt sets a steady pace, giving Jaskier what feels like the blowjob of a lifetime while fingering him tenderly with his thick, calloused fingers. Two fingers fill him up nicely, and he lies back blissfully, marveling at the sensation.

He can feel his orgasm building and his cock twitches in Geralt’s mouth, so wet and slick and perfect. He breathes out slowly, his hips making small movements as he keeps himself from thrusting, and then he clenches around Geralt’s fingers and grasps at the bedsheets, letting out a broken moan as he comes.

The following moments are incredible, leaving him dazed, but he has to nudge Geralt away with his foot—perhaps a little too roughly—before he can lie back and catch his breath.

“I think I wanna keep you around,” Jaskier mumbles.

Geralt chuckles, running a hand along the length of Jaskier’s still-hard cock. “You’re still hard for me.”

He stares at the ceiling, trying to gather his wits, and he waves a hand vaguely in the air. “I don’t ejaculate. I just need a second to cool down.”

Geralt lies beside him, placing his hand on Jaskier’s chest. “Want me to fuck you?” he asks, voice low and sultry, hitting a seductive note Jaskier wasn’t sure he could.

“Mm.” Jaskier places his hand atop Geralt’s. His voice is a little hesitant. “I like the sound of that.”

“Sounds like there’s a ‘but’ in there somewhere.”

“Yeah, it’s my butt.” Jaskier grins. “Not tonight, I think.” He leans in close, whispering in Geralt’s ear. “Maybe in the morning. I could do with having you pin me down and ravish me sometime.”

“What if I pin you down like this?” Geralt asks. He practically rolls onto Jaskier, knees on either side of his hips, his cock bumping against Jaskier’s. He leans forward, taking Jaskier’s wrists and gently pinning them against the pillows above his head.

“Oh.” The new position makes him feel… safe. Protected. Almost like being wrapped up in a warm blanket. It’s not quite the domination he sometimes craves, but something gentler, tender. The buzz of arousal grows once more and he relaxes against the pillows. “This is good,” he says, and he thinks some of his wonder bleeds into his tone. “Add lube?”

Geralt leans back to drizzle some lube on them, slicking up their cocks with one hand in a motion that makes Jaskier groan loudly. He leans forward again, holding their cocks in one hand and Jaskier’s wrists in another, then begins to thrust slowly, rubbing his cock against Jaskier’s.

It’s overstimulating for about a minute, but the slow pace helps Jaskier ease into it and then he’s completely turned on again. He wraps his arms around Geralt as he ruts into Geralt’s hand, loving how it feels to slide against his cock inside the same tightness. “Your hand—your cock—Geralt, you’re perfect.”

Geralt grunts against Jaskier’s neck. “I could say the same about you, Jaskier.”

They moan and pant, the sounds of their coupling filling the room, and then Geralt’s hips stutter as he comes. Jaskier can feel his cock twitching, and then there’s cum on his belly and on his own cock, and it only takes a couple more strokes before he comes, too, with a quiet gasp.

Geralt lies down next to him after wiping off the worst of the mess with tissues. Jaskier doesn’t realize he’s crying until Geralt dabs a tissue on his cheeks. The action jolts him out of a haze, and he blinks rapidly, sight blurring as a result.

“Hey,” Geralt murmurs. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Jaskier touches his own face, a little surprised to find it wet. He sits upright. “I’m fine. I don’t know—maybe I’m emotional? I’m definitely emotional. Hormones or something like that.” There’s a tension in his chest he didn’t notice before. “It’s been a shit week.”

Geralt wraps an arm around him. “Yeah. That happens.”

“I needed… something. This helped. Helps. Is helping.” Jaskier sighs. “Are you staying the night?”

“Might as well. I’m not doing much else besides waiting between jobs.” Geralt clears his throat. “No obligations, you know.”

Jaskier rests his head on Geralt’s shoulders. “Sounds nice.” He allows himself only a moment before climbing off the bed, stretching his arms and wincing at a pop. “I should shower.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” Geralt says. He pushes himself off the bed and goes for his jeans. “I’ll go second.”

Jaskier showers and deflates his erection, followed shortly after by Geralt, and soon enough he and Geralt are curled up in bed together, making quiet small talk. Geralt isn’t a man of many words, but he engages with some of the conversation, and Jaskier can almost imagine that this is normal for them. That it’s more than just a hookup.

It’s a nice fantasy, and Jaskier clings to it, falling asleep quickly in Geralt’s warm arms.


End file.
